


Daily dose of pain at 3:30 am-Treebros

by Pandastuff101



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Bullying, Fluff, M/M, One-Shots, Soulmates, treebros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 12:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11600556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandastuff101/pseuds/Pandastuff101
Summary: Late night writing that my friend forced me to upload.





	Daily dose of pain at 3:30 am-Treebros

**Author's Note:**

> Late night writing that my friend forced me to upload.

_Dammit._

It was happening again. In fact, this was such a frequent thing in Connor's life that he had logged it into his schedule- _approximately 3:30 after school; soulmate gets beat up._

He wondered if he was the only one who had to keep a schedule for these types of things.

Normally, he would've been home by now. Free to curl up in pain in the safety of his room. But  _noo!_  The school's guidance counselor, Dr. Dake, had  _insisted_  on keeping him for a long lecture about the dangers of marijuana. 

Or something like that. Connor was coasting off a high through most of it, so the speech was kind of a blur.

Now he was just glad that the school was relatively empty. He could stumble through the halls and only weird looks from the members of the chess club, and who cared about those losers, anyway? Most of the club consisted of exceedingly smart and unnaturally horny teenagers who used the time to breed like bunny rabbits in the janitorial closets. 

And they called  _him_  a freak.

He felt another blow hit his stomach, and audibly gasped in pain. Tears sprung from the corner of his eyes, and he bit his lip to hold back the wave of nausea that followed the hit. 

He only had to make it to the parking lot. The beatings usually only lasted ten or so minutes, and he could wait it out in his car. It was lucky he even  _had_  the car-if this had happened only a week ago, when he was still banned from driving (crazy party, no regrets, long story.) there would've been no way his sister, Zoe, would've waited for him. He would've been stuck out of luck.

Connor all but fell out of the school's double doors, already fumbling for his keys. His side exploded with pain, and he gasped. At the same moment, he heard someone yell. 

Connor slowly raised his head, his vision spotted and his mouth suddenly dry. He was pretty sure he  _tried_  to speak, but, instead of words, all that came out was a confused and highly garbled, "Afogyh?"

On the pavement of the basketball court, a trio of boys was kicking at a fallen something. Connor was dumb-he immediately knew it was a person they were beating. What confused him was how perfectly timed their kicks were to the blows of pain to his midsection. 

His brain shorted in the overwhelming  _weirdness_ of the situation, and it took him a moment to realize he was now running towards the fight. He pushed the boys aside.

Of course, they pushed back.

"What are you doing here freakazoid? Don't you have a ditch to go shoot up in?" one of them laughed, shoving Connor.

His response was a calm and reflexive punch to the boy's face. He took immense satisfaction in the crunch of his fist connecting with his opponent's nose.

"FUCK! JESUS!" he screamed, "I THINK YOU BROKE MY FRIGGIN' NOSE!"

The nose in question may have, in fact, been broken. There was too much blood sprouting from it for Connor to get a proper look, and, frankly, he didn't give two shits. He warily glanced around at the other boys, who took a few hesitant steps back. Connor scowled and jerked his head to the school. They ran, nose-boy stumbling blindly after them.

Once they were out of sight, Connor allowed himself a moment to shake out his hand, wincing lightly. Punching someone hurts a lot more than the movies would have you believe.

He heard a small shuffling noise, and looked down to see a familiar face staring back up at him. It only took a millisecond for the wide blue eyes, messy blonde hair, and blue polo to align with a name. _Evan Hansen_. A new wave of anger washed over him, and he fought to keep it down.

Evan was nothing like Connor, but, all the same, he felt for him.  They were both living shadows whose reigns of unimportance were sometimes punctured by mortifying moments. Connor was known mainly for throwing a printer at a teacher in second grade (what? He missed.) and Evan for fainting the one time he was forced to do an oral report. That was the last time someone made Evan go in front of a crowd, and the last time someone ever spoke normally to Connor. Not that he could blame them, exactly.

"Are you okay?" Connor asked, nervously fingering with the strap of his satchel.

This would mark the third time this year-a record for Connor-that he and Evan had interacted. The first was when Connor pushed him in the hall-a memory he had repressed because of how  _strange_  it had been. He was almost certain, afterwards, that he felt the kiss of lockers against his back. He put it off as guilt, and it had been part of the reason he approached Evan for the second time that day, in the school's computer lab. He apologized and, upon seeing Evan's cast, offered to sign it. Connor's soulmate had broken their arm that summer, too, so he sympathized.

Still, when he grabbed Evan's arm a little roughly, he swore he felt the jolt in his own. 

It looked like Evan had gotten his cast off.

It also looked like the poor kid was having a stroke.

Connor sighed, "Right. Who were those guys, anyways?"

He waited for a beat, and, when Evan still didn't respond, he gave in to the silence. Connor knelt down and began to pick up the contents of Evan's bag, which had been strewn in a small area of the court.

This (finally) prompted Evan to speak. "N-no. I g-got it," he said, scrambling got his history text book. Connor raised an eyebrow and gathered it for him. Evan held it to his chest like it was a life preserver and he expected the basketball court to transform into a swimming pool at any moment. 

"Right," Connor repeated, carefully eyeing Evan. He had a nasty purple welt on his cheek, n Connor touched the sweet spot on his own face, feeling the ghost of throbbing pain there. His eyes widened as he realized the painfully obvious. Evan did the same, confusion flickering over his soft features.

Connor pinched his own arm.

Evan yelped softly, his eyes jerking up to meet Connor's.

"Fun fact," Connor monotoned, his mouth dry as cotton. "we're soulmates." 


End file.
